


Gravestone Graffiti

by Joji_Sada



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, Gen, Other, Out of Character, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-10-04
Updated: 2007-10-04
Packaged: 2018-10-01 13:30:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10190909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joji_Sada/pseuds/Joji_Sada
Summary: Kingsley has a past that no one knows.  There has to be a reason....SongFic****Rated for Violence and Dark Themes...You Have Been Warned





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

**Disclaimer:** I don’t own this at all. It belongs to J.K. Rowling….I refuse to dwell on that so that is all the information you are getting out of me. Song belongs to Three Days Grace "It's All Over."

**A/N:** This idea has been jumping around in my head and originally it fit Harry. However, when I went to write it, it changed. These things happen but hey, let’s just roll with it. Please review. Also, the change of tense is on purpose. (i.e was—is) 

**P.S.** Thank you so much for the feedback on “The Authorship of Severus Snape.” I never guessed it would be so popular so Thanks. Enjoy 

**** **** **** **** **** 

He shivered as the images of his treason played through his mind. Each breath was shallow with the weight of his pain. His dark eyes glistened with tears, creating a gateway into his self loathing, his fear, and his shame. There were no words left to comfort him and no arms left to hold him.

His hands were-are-cold; stained. His hair hung limply, dripping wet and easily shading his face monstrosity from the world.

His soul was-is-drowning and even with all his inner turmoil, it was only the wetness on his cheeks and the blood on his hands that showcased his horrific past.

**** **** ****

_You’re bottle’s almost empty_  
You know this can’t go on  
Because of you my mind  
Is always racing 

He couldn’t understand it. Why were they allowing this to continue? Their friends were suffering; and they were letting them. Why? Why!? Why—How could his parents allow such travesties to continue?

**Fear**. 

He knew it had to be fear when his father had forbidden him from leaving home. But, he’d had to. He couldn’t follow his parents and sit back, calmly, as his friend—his destined mate—was brutalized.

So he had run. He had run from his home and stood in front of his friend, Roho, facing the monsters.

_The needle’s breaking your skin_  
The scar is sinking in  
and now your shift begins 

Cruelly, he was shoved aside; his body hitting the ground hard. He was undeterred. He stood once more, accepting the backhand aimed at his friend. He simply spit the blood from his mouth and looked into the cold grey eyes of his attacker.

Bravely, he spoke, “Leave this place. These are good people and you have no rights here.” His voice was strong and deep—unwavering; something extremely unusual for a twelve year old.

The man stared at him, his demeanor unchanging save for a cold, almost mocking smirk adorning his face. “You, a mere, child, dare to challenge me?” He laughed mercilessly.

“You have no rights here.” He growled.

The man simply laughed. “I’ll do as I please and a scrawny wimp such as yourself can do nothing to stop me.”

Without hesitation, the man knocked him aside once more, having two of his thieves hold him down. He grabbed Roho and decapitated him in one swift move. The body fell onto his lower half, splattering him with blood.

The man motioned for his men to let him go and as soon as they did, he scrambled backwards and ran. He managed to make it behind his hut before falling to his knees puking. Even with nothing in his stomach, the horror inside him was overwhelming. As his stomach settled, as much as it could with what he ad just witnessed, he cried.

He cried for Roho. He cried for himself. But mostly, he cried for what he was about to do.

_It’s All Over For…_  
It’s All Over For You  
For You  
When you’re on the edge and falling off  
It’s All Over For You 

There was no escape now. His tribe had lost all hope. With every sunrise, more people—more children—were becoming victims and slaves to the cold, grey-eyed man. Yet, with every sunset, more blood soaked into the soil, forever staining the once peaceful landscape.

_I know what runs through your blood_  
You do this all in vain  
because of you my mind  
Is always racing 

His father wouldn’t run. Even faced with the fate that awaited them, he would not run.

“Why Baba?”

Because I cannot leave my people. Have I not taught you to stand strong in the face of danger?” He asked.

“But there will be no people left! You cannot fight these men and yet you sign us over to a fate worse than death.”

"Enough. We will not take the coward’s way out.”

“As you wish, _Baba_.”

_And it gets under my skin_  
To see you giving in  
And now your trip begins 

The moon was at its peak when he made his decision. He took his father’s Athame, silently praying for strength, and moved to his siblings’ sleeping area. A sister, not even nine, and a brother, only four, awaited him. Quietly, he kneeled next to them, kissing each softly on the forehead, and said goodbye as he begged for forgiveness. 

“Be free.” He whispered before driving the blade through his sister’s heart. Her body jerked at the unexpected action but she did not wake; and never would she. He repeated the actions on his brother.

He rose, ignoring the crimson dyes on his skin and clothes, and made his way to his parents’ quarters.

“Drift easy.” He murmured before, once again, driving the blade downward through her heart—watching as her breathing eased to nothing.

He removed the blade from her chest and walked around to his father, who slept on unaware of his family’s peril, and spoke softly. “I am no coward in my actions. I am saving you—something you could not do for me.” With that, he dragged the blade across his father’s throat, leaving him to drown in his own blood. 

His father would not let them go easy. Then neither shall he. 

_Now you’re dead inside_  
Still you wonder why  
It’s All Over 

He covered them each with cloth, crossing their arms across their chest in a sign of respect. He soaked their blankets with his tears.

_Now you’re dead inside_  
Still you wonder why  
It’s All Over 

He could still smell the burning of their flesh as the black smoke rose to create a surrounding darkness among what was left of his tribe. The smoke blocked his view of the treachery he had hoped to escape. He could hear the thieves yelling, frantic to stop the fire from spreading. 

They would never know what lay beneath the ashes.

_Now you’re dead inside_  
Still you wonder why  
It’s All Over 

Now, twenty years later, he can still see the blood on his palms. He can see Roho’s eyes go hollow with death and he can hear the screams of his neighbors. He can smell the flesh of his family and feel the chills down his spine as he had made his getaway.

He senses it; in his nightmares—and his dreams. But he doesn’t regret it.

And he never will…

Because _It’s All Over_


End file.
